


Like I the Moth, You Are My Flame

by anyothergirl415



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-07
Updated: 2009-11-07
Packaged: 2017-10-26 22:55:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/288798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anyothergirl415/pseuds/anyothergirl415
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where in Dean is the moth and Sam is the flame.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like I the Moth, You Are My Flame

**Author's Note:**

> 30 NaNo Shots 2009 - Prompt: Secret

“ _Oh_.”

The quietest of gasps. An echo around the room. Rustling sheets. Squeaking mattress springs.

Dean’s ears perked up and his eyes strained in the darkness, head falling to the side to peer at the neighboring bed and shifting shadows.

“ _Fuck yeah_.”

A heavy moan. Low in the throat. Up tilt of hips. Stroke slide of a fist. Shaggy brown hair cascading over white cotton.

Dean’s hand was under his boxers before he could put two and two together, matching the speed of Sam’s arm lifting under his sheets.

“ _Want it_.”

A louder grunt. Flesh exposed as a blanket slid back. Hips angling his way. Fingers slipping low to press into dark secret muscle.

Dean’s eyes locked on the image as his flesh jerked in his palm, a loud moan fell from his lips as he imagined what it would feel like to be if those fingers were his cock instead.

“ _God Dean_.”

A sharp inhale. Body snapping up. Hips rolling swiftly. Eyes locking.

Dean’s loosing it faster then he could ever remember it happening, at least since he turned eighteen and got a grip on his stamina level.

It wasn’t the first time this had happened between them. Chances were it wasn’t the last time either. Like some dirty little secret, only happening in the middle of the night, in the dark. Morning would come and they would pretend it never happened.

“One of these days you’ll be brave enough to actually touch.”

A huffed chuckle. The reclaiming of blankets. Mattress creaking. The tan expanse of shoulders lighting in the catch of a moon beam.

Dean’s heart clenched in his chest as he rolled away and stared at the wall, wondering at what point in time he would learn that touching the fire would only get him burned.  



End file.
